


On Patrol

by Unusual_Raccoon



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Anti-OTA, But they're crushing hard, F/M, Fuck OTA, Laurel Lance is the Black Canary, Pre-Relationship, Season 5 AU, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27181436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unusual_Raccoon/pseuds/Unusual_Raccoon
Summary: Season 5 AUIt's just another night on patrol, as Laurel adjusts to her new life as a hero.
Relationships: Earth-2 Laurel Lance & Oliver Queen, Earth-2 Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen
Comments: 12
Kudos: 17





	On Patrol

Laurel’s life had changed rather dramatically in a very short window of time, going from being one of Zoom’s top lieutenants, to a helplessly caged bird, to impersonating a dead woman on behalf of a villain far worse than her, to finally still sort of impersonating a dead woman...with permission?

Ever since taking Oliver Queen up on his offer to help her, things had changed, from the moment he freed her from the little cell one of his lackeys saw fit to lock her in. She wasn’t freed without a price of course, the price being any and all information on the hooded terror, Prometheus, that had intended to use her as a weapon against Oliver; it was all too easy a transaction for Laurel. It was funny how toppling the villain’s plan became all the simpler when working together. One clue had led to another, and despite the reservation expressed by many of his team,  _ repeatedly _ , Oliver had allowed Laurel to help take the bastard down. Prometheus had threatened to kill her too after all.

With the Prometheus problem handled before it could get any worse, Oliver was content to continue his mission of saving Star City by day as the Mayor, and by night as the city’s very own guardian angel - one mugging at a time. A mission that Laurel had been welcomed to join, the way she figured it, she had spent too long being an expendable piece in someone else's game. At least now, Laurel knew that she was being treated as an equal.

Her introduction as a new member of the “team”, if it could even be called that, had certainly caused waves...which led to the trimming of some proverbial fat on Oliver’s part. In an astonishingly small amount of time, the gaggle of people in Oliver’s brigade had been whittled down to the pair of them: him and her. Power was easier to balance between the two of them. Laurel hadn’t minded, it got kind of hard to spread her wings in the bunker with so many bumbling bodies crowding the space. Things were quieter during the day with all the extra cannon fodder having flown the coop and for that Laurel was eternally grateful…the last thing she needed was a migraine induced by the wannabe vigilante daycare Felicity Smoak had set up in Oliver’s little hideaway.

The silence came with an added benefit, in recent weeks Laurel found her hearing was getting more sensitive. Honing her new ability into something reliable was infinitely easier without all the chatter.

Laurel would admit that she had changed, not without help of course, but now she was a fucking hero...ditching her old Siren leathers for a new suit, Oliver had insisted on something new, courtesy of the clowns at Star Labs apparently. She wasn’t one to take handouts, but she could admit the new suit was pretty nice, with the yellow accents adorning the reinforced black leather, and it’s decorative fishnet webbing to allow for breathability. The only trace of the gear that belonged to its previous owner was the domino mask that fit her like a glove and the scuffed baton that hung in a scabbard at her hip.

While Oliver and Thea attempted to craft a cover story to explain the miraculous reappearance of the beloved Dinah Laurel Lance, Laurel spent most of her days shut in. She occupied her time training, not that she particularly needed it, she was already lethal but in actuality she had nothing better to do. And her nights were spent with Oliver...patrolling of course. 

Tonight was no different. 

A warm gust of wind rose up to greet Laurel where she stood perched on a rooftop. Tilting her head as she strained her hearing, distant chatter flooding her senses, her face screwing up in concentration as she attempted to drown out the various stimuli muddying the sound she detected.

“What do you hear?” Oliver asked in a whisper, his gloved hand settling on her shoulder, immediately drawing her attention even with the numerous layers between them muffling the contact.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Laurel shook her head wordlessly, shrugging off the hand on her shoulder, it was hard to think about anything when he was touching her.

“Not much at the moment…” She admitted, not quite sure what to feel about the small frown that flashed briefly on Oliver’s lips. Guilt, foreign as it had become to her in recent years, was still detectable as Oliver tried to smother his dejection. Laurel supposed she probably could’ve articulated her reaction to his touch a little better, than a childish shove, hell, he deserved more after all he’d done for her.

“Remember how we practiced?” Oliver asked, his voice encouraging as he gazed at her from behind his mask.

Of course she remembered, it was hard to forget the sight of Oliver emerging from the elevator that led to the bunker with a silk blindfold dangling around his fingers. Laurel recalled the nervous race of butterflies that bubbled in her stomach at the sight, the rush of goosebumps prickling over her skin as Oliver asked her to put it on. The fact that it turned out to be a training method for fine tuning her newly developed enhanced hearing had been enough to set her straight; they were partners, nothing else.

“Yeah.” Laurel responded, watching as Oliver tossed his bow from hand to hand.

“Well, this is no different,” He explained, “just take a deep breath and let the sound come to you.”

Laurel couldn’t help but roll her eyes, this wasn’t the first time she had been on the receiving end of those words, and somehow she doubted it would be the last. Still, it didn’t hurt to try. Inhaling deeply through her nose and blowing a long exhale through parted lips. Repeating the motion, Laurel slowly began to uncoil the tension in muscles she didn’t realize were drawn taut. The cadence of her breathing mellowed into something less controlled, and her eyes falling shut and body inching forward to greet the next gust of wind that drifted up to meet them. 

Having relaxed, Laurel began to welcome the surrounding sound, gently moving past the innocuous and focusing on the more pressing.

Her eyes flying open at the distant shriek she detected amongst the rabble of other sounds.

“You got something.” Oliver commented, with a concerning amount of pride in his voice. Nodding her head, Laurel turned back towards her partner, finding his blue eyes beneath the shadow of his hood.

“It was a scream...a woman I think, maybe multiple women?” She proposed, striding across the rooftop with Oliver in tow.

“Came from,” Laurel paused, as she determined the direction of the sound, “That way, not too far off by the sound of it.” Laurel explained, watching as Oliver nocked a grappling arrow with ease. Loosing the arrow in the indicated direction, anchoring a cable to a distant building.

“Ladies first.” He gestured towards the wire, smiling at the playful punch Laurel delivered to his shoulder in response. She wasn’t one to back down from an invitation. Pulling her baton free, Laurel shot a wink at Oliver, as she took a running start towards the edge of the building and subsequently towards the worrisome sound she had heard.

\--

Having tracked down the source of the sound, leading them to a shipping yard, Laurel had been surprised when she and Oliver had determined the goingson to be more than a simple mugging.

“Chinese triad.” Oliver whispered, as they watched a group of armed men from behind an empty shipping container.

“You’re sure?” Laurel asked, watching as the group approached a newly delivered shipping container. Their weapons at the ready as they shouted in what Laurel guessed was Mandarin, based on Oliver’s identification of the group.

Oliver gave a nod, confirming his assumption, “Though, back when I knew them, they only smuggled drugs…”

Laurel winced at the sound of cries that reverberated from within the shipping container, indisputably concluding that was what she had heard earlier.

Calculating how best to strike, with all the group gathered in one spot, a well timed sonic cry seemed efficient, though not without consequence, Laurel supposed. If she wasn’t careful, a powerful enough cry could pitch the shipping container on its side or possibly crush the thing, at best rattling the people inside and at worst, well...she didn’t want to think about that. The Black Canary saved people, so that was what she was going to do.

She followed Oliver’s lead, for a guy who spent his nights running around in a green hood with a bow and arrows, he offered a touch more subtly than Laurel was accustomed to.

A few arrows whistled through the air, finding their mark with a resounding wet thump as the bodies met the pavement. It was quiet and quick, whittling away at the pack of armed thugs, until one too many disappearances aroused suspicion. A frantic cry tore through the air, as she detected the shuffle of feet over the ground. Laurel was grateful for the alarm, she had never been one to enjoy quick and quiet.

The panic stirring making the formerly crowded group fan out like vermin at the sight of a predator.

The scuff of footsteps grew closer as the thugs sought out their attackers, signaling their approach with the rattle of guns held in shaking hands. Smoothly withdrawing her baton, her gloved hand settling with familiarity over the grip. Laurel felt the fizzy rush of adrenaline surge through her as she exhaled a shallow breath.

The first figure to round the corner, shouted out at the arrow he was greeted with, the impact sending his body back. The subsequent chatter of automatic gunfire was reminiscent of fireworks and the blinding flash of the muzzle was just as bright in the grim darkness. Their assailant rose up, the arm holding his gun rendered useless with the arrow buried in his shoulder. Springing forward, camouflaged by the lack of light, Laurel delivered a swift strike with her baton. Skidding back into the cover provided by yet another abandoned shipping container, having rendered the first of many assailants unconscious, Laurel exhaled an excited breath.

The length of her baton fitted against her forearm as she slunk through the shipping yard. A pair of footsteps too heavy to belong to Oliver came closer, and Laurel ducked down reflexively at the shower of bullets that were rained down upon the crate.

Laying flush against the crate, the vigilante held her breath as those heavy footsteps drew closer. Waiting for the guy to come investigate as she knew he would, her grip on her baton tightened. Hearing the scuff of shoes against the damp ground as a figure cautiously sought for her in the dark, she moved quickly, vaulting her weight off of the and directly into her assailant. 

They collided harshly, grappling in an awkward hold, Laurel brought her curled fist up to connect with his jaw in a smooth uppercut. Having momentarily dazed her opponent with her strike, Laurel was quick to bat his weapon away with a swipe of her baton.

Ducking to avoid a few haphazardly thrown punches, she moved in close once more, used their combined momentum to send her opponent hurtling towards the unforgiving metal of the shipping container. Watching as her assailant connected with the cold, hard surface, his weight slumping into a ragged heap as he sank to the floor.

Stepping over the body, she proceeded only hissing in irritation when she was interrupted by the cackle of gunfire. Slipping into an open container for cover, her pulse pounding as she waited for a break in the hail of bullets to make her assault.

Hearing the clatter of emptied magazines, Laurel seized the opportunity, darting forward from the darkness and towards the pair of shooters.

She moved with practiced ease, sweeping the feet of one opponent, sending him sprawling on his back, as she prepared to dispatch the next. Grunting at the blunt impact of a well timed sucker punch connecting with her side, the vigilante sputtered at her loss of breath. 

Wheezing out a breath between her teeth, she was quick to regain her composure, using a swift jab of her baton to put some distance between her and the triad goon.

Wincing at the dull shock of pain burning across her scalp, her head snapping back as a cruel hand tugged on a fistful of her long blonde hair. Reacting instantly, Laurel brought her elbow back harshly, allowing the sharp bone to jab at her attacker with full force. She didn’t need to look to hear the hard plummet of his body hitting the floor. 

Sizing up her remaining opponent, Laurel licked her dry lips, fists curled, baton abandoned to the ground as the man rushed at her. Gliding back, dancing around each punch thrown her way, her gloved hands took ahold of the man’s arm, yanking the offending appendage back until she was rewarded with a deafening crack. The man let loose a howl of pain as he crumpled down to the ground.

Snagging her baton from where it had been dropped, Laurel pushed on through the space, the sooner they dealt with the guards, the sooner they could free whoever was locked in that shipping container.

Rounding a corner, Laurel let out a relieved sigh at the sight of Oliver, with a few arrows missing from his quiver, but nonetheless intact. Glancing over his shoulder, she noted the trail of unconscious bodies strewn behind him. She could feel the sweep of his gaze over her, likely sizing her up for any obvious injuries.

“You alright?” Oliver asked in a low whisper as he drew nearer, a gleam of concern in the blue of his eyes.

“Fine, you?” Laurel asked calmly, infinitely grateful for the cover provided by her mask, hiding the warm blush she knew had snuck on her cheeks. Comforted by his small nod, Laurel knew it was silly to worry about the guy, yet she couldn’t quite help it; it was pretty much a reflex at this stage in her life.

“I think we got most of them,” Oliver concluded, “Tagged an SUV with a tracker for the ones that hightailed it.”

Nodding at the new information, Laurel supposed that the more immediate threat had been dealt with for the moment.

“Let’s go see about that crate.”

Before long the pair had arrived back where they had started, standing in front of the shipping container, the metal humming with audible panic.

“Do you think you can get it open?” Laure asked as she and Oliver surveyed the massive metal box. It was hard to tell where the majority of the occupants had settled, they’d have to be cautious about how they went about prying the thing open.

“Maybe.” Oliver responded, pulling an explosive arrow from his quiver.

“The explosion might not be enough.” He added on, with a hard look in Laurel’s direction as he pulled the drawstring taut. Giving an understanding nod, Laurel licked her lips bracing herself in the event that her powers might be needed.

Observing the tension in the line of his shoulders, Laurel gave a small shiver at the whistle of Oliver’s exhale as he released the shot. The impact set off a small blast as anticipated, rattling the large metal frame which resulted in a few frantic cries from within the container.

Wincing at the sound, the vigilante quickly concluded that her partner had been right, it hadn’t been enough. Inhaling sharply through her nose, lungs swollen with oxygen, Laurel held her breath until her chest burned…

Then quickly released her breath in a controlled cry, the sonic scream leaving her lips caving the metal doors in with a groan.

A quiet murmur of whispers sounded from within the box as the pair drew closer. Easing back the warped metal doors, Laurel peeked into the dark shipping container, her heart sinking at the sight of women inside of it. Their bodies all huddled together as they stared back at her with unadulterated fear.

“It’s alright,” The vigilante said, holding out a welcoming hand to help the captives climb free of their metal prison, “those men are gone.” Laurel assured in what she hoped was a comforting tone.

“You’re safe.” She said as she cautiously inched closer to the tightly gathered group. They group murmuring in their mother tongue, only making illustrating her point all the more challenging. Extending her arm further, her waiting hand held out as she gazed back at the women.

“Canary?” She heard Oliver call, the gruff sound of his voice inciting a small stir of fear, though fortunately the women seemed to determine that Oliver was of no threat to them, just as Laurel was.

Her heart gave a nervous leap in her chest as a shaking hand reached for hers, trembling fingers latching onto her in a white-knuckled grip. Countless desperate stares boring into her the darkness, tired eyes belaying all the meaning their lips couldn’t. Giving a gentle squeeze back at the hand held in hers.

“Green Arrow, we’re coming out.” Laurel called out, feeling the grip on her tighten as she slowly began leading the group out of the shipping container. Feeling the group gather at her back, Laurel felt her chest tighten as she felt more hands clutch onto her, as they exited the container. One step at the time, the group lurched forward, until the ground beneath their feet was the damp pavement, the air cool yet freeing as it greeted them.

Laurel felt herself warm with something indescribable at the smile that lingered on Oliver’s lips. The firm visage of a vigilante soon slid into place, hiding that proud smile that stirred a pleasant warmth in her belly. Laurel listened as her partner spoke to the women behind her in what she assumed was Mandarin, instructions on where to find shelter no doubt. She was growing accustomed to the script that went along with being a vigilante.

_ “Black Canary?”  _ The voice was heavily accented, yet there was no denying it was her the person was referring to, turning at the use of her title, Laurel spotted the woman who had taken her hand moments earlier.

“Yes…I’m the Black Canary.” Laurel explained, nervously wetting her lips, as she prayed the woman garnered her meaning despite their language barrier. Turning to Oliver, hoping he might translate, Laurel froze as a pair of hands took hold of hers once more. 

There was a grateful smile on the woman’s lips that warmed the newly turned vigilante to her core. The gesture understood in the absence of words. Laurel could feel the appreciation in the collective gazes.

\--

Leaning back against a pillar, Laurel let out a sigh as she undid the zipper of her vigilante gear, shrugging off the leather with a roll of her shoulders. The high of having done something good still tingling fondly in her chest.

“Hey.”

Glancing up at the sound of Oliver’s voice, Laurel couldn’t quite fight the contagious smile that leapt from his lips to hers. Eyeing up her partner, a fondness that blurred the line between their partnership into a far more complicated territory rising in her.

“You were incredible out there tonight…” Oliver said with that boyish smile of his, blue eyes creased at the corners in a smile.

“ _ Black Canary _ .”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I struggled with this fic so much, and debated on whether or not I should share it. Here we are, I decided to share it with you guys. If you enjoyed this fic (or if you didn't) please don't hesitate to leave a comment, I love to hear what my readers have to say.


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